


Six

by thatoneguywiththatoneship



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Action, Aged-Up Character(s), Detective Noir, Detectives, Drama, Expansion Suit, Original Character(s), Other, Post-Canon, Post-Game(s), Private Investigators, Retirement, Team Flare (Pokemon), Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27923215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatoneguywiththatoneship/pseuds/thatoneguywiththatoneship
Summary: Death is coming.
Relationships: Matière | Emma/Serena
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. I - Emma

**Author's Note:**

> Full Summary:
> 
> Death is coming.  
> After retiring from the identity of Essentia, Emma Matière discovers a new and implacable threat emerged from the ashes of Team Flare's near-forgotten legacy: a final, desperate trump card to usher in Lysandre's vision of a perfect world. With Serena, Champion of Kalos, she tries to stop this rampaging force from destroying potentially not only Kalos, but the world.

It was a cold, crisp morning in Lumiose city.

A dense fog had settled and had smothered the Route gates into and out of the city. Few cars stood still at the tolls into and out of Lumiose due to the early hour, and those that were sat with yellow headlights burning which cut through the gloom with an eerie half-warmth. Their drivers sat propped up on their elbows waiting to either return home or to visit the iconic city, with Prism Tower’s pinnacle cleaving a mighty gash in the smoky semi-dawn skyline.

Inside the city limits, people went about their many businesses – sleeping, waking for an early shift, going to sleep after late shifts, loitering the streets, travelling, looking for things, losing things. Everyone outside belonged to the mist, to the swirling cloud. They vanished into it at the smallest distances from each other and emerged again under streetlamps and at shop fronts.

People passed over pavements; blood pumped through a beating heart. Lumiose’s pulse quickened as the sun slowly rose over Kalos and more of its citizens left their homes and hotels to pursue whatever interests the morning called them for. And as the sun rose, it hesitantly illuminated one particular building, tucked away in the north boulevard. Sunlight filtered in through shutter blinds that were only half-closed, creating thin strips of warmth that crossed over a plain grey duvet.

An alarm sounded – formal, almost rude in how it bleeped angrily through the sweet morning silence. Red digital numbers spelled 6:00, flashing urgently. A hand reached through the darkness, sliding in and out of pillars of illumination, to press down on a black plastic button and silence the harsh noise.

Emma’s elbow creaked as she drew her arm back to her side, louder than the bed’s groans as she shifted to sit up. Bones cracked into place loudly, and she kept a grim wince on her face as they did so, sighing slightly at the relief that came once she was upright. She stretched her arms up and again her bones made loud clicks that made her flinch. Finally, she stood, and this time her body held to and didn’t make a sound – or at least a sound as audible as the ones it had been making prior.

With a silent yawn she swept her dressing gown off a hook beside her bed and over her shoulder, pulling it tight over herself to keep the chill at bay.

“Lights.”

A single bulb with a sad and dusty lampshade flickered on with a low hum. Emma massaged her shoulder as she moved into the next room, a kitchen and living room combo: the light came on in the next room as the one in her bedroom instantaneously shut off. It would have been unclear what exactly had caused the bulbs to respond to her words until a disembodied, unnatural voice spoke.

“Good morning.”

“Morning,” Emma replied shortly, settling in to sit on a stool beside her kitchen counter. It was still unclear to whom or what she was talking as she took a loaf of bread from a box and slipped a few slices into the nearby toaster. “Toast.”

“Toast, please?”

“Toast, please.” Emma corrected herself without comment, and the groan that escaped her was one of discomfort, not of annoyance. The voice seemed to understand, and the bread dropped into the toaster and started to warm with a click, Emma’s hand going nowhere near the device itself. “Anything to report on the city?”

“That’s a no. Traffic normal, power grid normal, no crime to report. Only thing unusual is the temperature.”

“Which is?”

“Is it really so important?” The voice was a little exasperated.

“Please?”

“Eight degrees Celsius,” the voice murmured, clearly disgruntled at Emma for even caring.

“Thanks.” Emma rested on the deep black counter and exhaled deeply. She could almost see her reflection, almost. She rubbed her eyes. “Oh – coffee too, please.”

“Coming up.” A coffee machine beside her clicked on, and Emma hastily picked up and slid a mug below the dispenser. Again, there was no clear explanation as to why Emma’s appliances obeyed her command or seemed to be talking back to her – at least to anyone who may have had a window into her morning routine. “Anything else?”

“Don’t think so. Thanks.”

“No problem, Emma.”

“Oh – radio.”

The radio came on a second later.

“Thanks, Rotom.”

Her partner Pokémon had been leaping between devices and projecting a voice from a Holo-Caster jury-rigged into Emma’s wall. Coloured wires poked out from it, but it was built in firmly. The voice was close to robotic, but as Rotom had mastered the voice modulator, it had made the voice its own. Slight quirks and accents ran through the wires like the twangs of a voice box, giving it just enough room to emote.

Emma took a plate from a cupboard by her knees and put it on the counter in front of her. As she moved, Rotom piped up again. “I thought you’d be getting something on the way this morning.”

“Not made of money, Rotom,” Emma explained, but she was wondering herself why she wasn’t going to stop by one of the market stalls in Lumiose and pick something up instead of making do with just toast. She didn’t need it, she supposed.

“Any interesting dreams to tell me about?” Rotom questioned.

“Not today,” Emma mumbled, rubbing her eyes again. “Can’t remember it at all.”

“Very well. Where are we off to today?” Rotom often accompanied her on investigations and case work – she’d carry Rotom around in her phone or in a datapad to have someone (or rather, something) to bounce case notes off at all times.

“You know.” Emma replied, watching the coffee machine and listening to its whirs.

“Wow, you're unusually conversational today.” Rotom said, its voice flat. "Very well. Kiloude city, isn't it?"

“Yeah. Arson. Seems a Pokémon caused it, could’ve been revenge.” Emma sensed that the toast was almost done, and reached out prematurely to take it, her hand hovering near the device. She knew Rotom was keeping count of precise seconds and would eject it at the time when it was perfectly golden.

“Always tricky when Pokémon are involved, hm?” Rotom leapt out of the coffee machine and into the toaster to finish it up. With a metallic click, the finished breakfast sprung up almost directly into Emma’s hand. At the same time, her coffee began to pour.

“Always.” Emma responded shortly, taking the toast and dealing it onto the plate. By now most of the discomfort was focused in her neck. Her hand gripped the mug’s handle as the coffee machine finished up and she took a sip as she watched the light begin to stream into her home, saw the hanging dust shiver in the light. “Oh, um, butter-“ she began, but Rotom was way ahead of her, springing the fridge door open for her. “Thanks,” she nodded as she reached in and took the spread out, carefully applying it.

“Well, I hope I can assist in the investigation… being a Pokémon myself and all.”

Emma was taken aback for a moment. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“None taken,” Rotom said, with a certain amount of smarminess to its robotic tone. “Regardless, I am certain I should be able to assist.”

Emma nodded along to the words; her attention drawn to the light again. Because of the tall buildings like walls around the city, Lumiose was usually lit in degrees as the sun rose gradually over the wall then descended behind it. The combination of the huge structures and route gates made Lumiose a formidable fortress should it need to be used as one – some even went as far as to compare the city to a prison or a gulag. Emma didn’t agree.

She took a bite of the toast and shut her eyes, indulging fully in the slowness of the moment, how easy it was to manage. The city was beginning to awaken from the thick slumber cast on it by dusk, and Emma heard the beginnings of bustle echoing up to her windows. The thrum of car engines, the thumps of footsteps on the pavements. Chatter, light and soft, so warm that Emma could see the curling clouds of breath emanating from lips. She took another bite.

A clatter and the ring of a tiny bell announced Emma’s departure from the Matiere Detective Agency. She was wearing a heavy winter trench coat, buttoned up all the way, with Rotom residing in her trusty datapad she kept all her case notes on. Sweeping out of the doorway and into the street, Emma made an imposing figure. She carefully closed the door behind her and turned the plain key, returning it to a pocket in her coat.

She took a moment to glance at her home. The detective agency was an old building, previously owned by her mentor, Looker. It was squeezed between a café and a curiosity shop in Rouge Plaza, and adjacent to the Sushi High Roller. The shutters on her windows were looking particularly battered, and she made a mental note to give them a fresh coat of paint at some point – or maybe replace them completely. She did a double-take to make sure that the sign was turned to ‘closed.’

Emma followed the path up to the north section of Lumiose, into the outer ring on her way to the station. The breath clouds she had imagined earlier were now all too real, and more creases appeared in her ageing face as she winced through the cold. She stuck her hands in her pockets, her back arching slightly in discomfort as she pushed through the biting cold.

“Morning, Emma!” called a cheerful voice. She glanced up, from where her head had been bowed against the chill. “How goes it?”

“Sore,” Emma replied shortly, stifling a sudden yawn. She saw the face of one of the many market stall owners that popped up all over Lumiose, one she recognized but had never been able to get a name to match the face.

“Sore, huh? I couldn’t tempt you for something to take the edge off a bit? Coffee, hot chocolate, something warm for the morning?”

“I’m afraid you probably couldn’t, need to be on time,” Emma lied effortlessly. There was no rush at all.

“Ah, shame. What’s business?”

“Sure you want to know?” Emma deflected again.

“Oh, bad goings-on?”

“On that end of the scale,” she replied. A Skiddo plodded on by, appearing from and disappearing into the mist in short order. Both were briefly distracted by it before resuming conversation.

“Well, I won’t keep you. Take care,” the stranger said, and Emma nodded thanks.

“You too.” With the exchange over, she swept off into the fog again, an invisible sigh relaxing her frame. Her shoulders relaxed, and a weight was lifted. She could almost feel Rotom’s quip, could hear it saying ‘Well handled,’ in a voice far too smooth and unctuous. She rolled her tongue around her teeth nervously, before regaining her composure and continuing her brisk stride to the station.

Streetlights dotted a path for her to take, and headlights rumbled by. Some formless shapes swerved into and out of the morning mist, some roughly human, some the shapes of various Pokémon, but nothing was precise. Emma kept herself close, arms tucked to her sides. The chill continued to nip and bite at the fringes of her coat, but it was receding.

By the time she had followed the circumference of the city to the station, things were beginning to clear up. Finally, distinct shapes sliced into the day to come. Emma cut one of the more imposing figures in her heavy clothes, all of her tightly packed like a spring ready to lash out – not that she would. She was far too slow for real action now. She fished in her deep coat pocket for her datapad at the gate and showed off her TMV pass to the machine scanner, making it blink green with approval.

The arched roof dappled light down onto the tracks as she made her way to her platform. A few groups were already present, clustered close together and making light conversation. Emma sat down on one of the station benches and began to read from her datapad, Rotom having the book and page ready for her before she had even switched it back on.

“I would have liked some thanks for having the tickets ready to scan,” Rotom said, using the datapad’s text to speech function to speak out loud to Emma.

“You always have it ready. Also, stop using that damn voice in public, it scares people.”

“I don’t believe it does.”

Emma pulled a grim face but said nothing. “Just be quiet until we get there.”

“If I absolutely must…”

“You must.”

A strange electronic hiss was Rotom’s sigh. Emma returned to her book, and passed the time.

* * *

“Scuse me.”

Emma glanced up. Whoever it was had approached quietly. She quickly recognised the shaved head, with a tuft of blue hair like a wilted mohawk and the leather jacket. She smiled despite herself, recognising a member of Lumiose’s punk Pokémon battling gangs.

“Can I help you?” Emma asked politely.

“Yeah, is this the right platform for Kiloude?”

“You got it,” Emma said, keeping her smile. The punk gangs were totally harmless, maybe slightly braggadocious but no real threat to anyone. She also enjoyed their graffiti.

“Thanks, miss.” The punk moved further down the platform. By now the station was almost fully illuminated by the sun’s morning light. Emma squinted a little as she glanced up to the windows in the roof, and as she did, something else caught her eye – the face of Serena, the champion of Kalos.

She was on a television in a café adjacent to the platform Emma sat at, speaking to the camera – clearly giving some kind of release on League-related matters. Seeing her now spiked Emma’s anxiety. She was meant to be meeting the Champion later, for a casual catch-up… but Emma was extremely hesitant about their meeting.

What did they have to talk about? Emma’s business was a dark one most of the time, and Serena’s was a world apart – the world of battling and politics and League management and all these other crazy things that Emma could barely believe existed in the world at the same time as her. She didn’t watch Serena’s battles, didn’t keep up with her news – Emma’s life was a tiny, isolated pocket of its own.

“Your pulse has quickened.”

“Wha- how-“

“You have your thumb over the centre button and I can feel it through your thumb. This device is extremely sensitive.”

“Why are you-“

“You told me to keep an eye on your biological functions in case of cardiac arrest or stroke.”

“That was a long time ago, and-“

“Your pulse has quickened further.”

“Be quiet,” Emma snapped.

“You’re welcome,” Rotom said.

Emma’s expression moved quickly between embarrassment to anger to frustration to resignation. “Keep monitoring it.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks…”

“Emma…” Rotom began, but Emma’s face had hardened finally and it was clear there would be nothing further to say. She continued to watch Serena’s face, and searched herself for why she was so on edge.

She owed Serena a lot.

Nothing monetary, and not something simple as favours – but almost her whole identity. It was difficult to think about. Emma tried to push the topic out of her head. The picture on the TV had changed to the weather report, but Serena had burned herself into the soft matter of Emma’s brain. She leaned forward and put her head in her hands, brown hair falling in a mess around her, and she became acutely aware of the aches and pains in her body again. Her back protested, and her shoulder burned. She was worrying over absolutely nothing. Serena was a friend.

“Rotom,” she said suddenly.

“Yes?”

“Why am I so nervous about tonight?”

The reply didn’t come right away, and this alone made Emma shift her head out of her palms in surprise. Rotom was usually very quick to respond to her questions. Then again, they were usually questions that could be given a true, quantifiable answer – not something more vague like Emma’s feelings about a meeting. There was even time for Emma to think that Rotom wouldn’t reply before the ‘voice’ came again.

“Could it be that you are anxious to see her again?”

“Well, that’s what I’m asking-“

“No, I mean, eager. Excited.”

“I don’t-“

“You so rarely speak to her, you look forward to your meetings.”

“No, this is… I think I’m dreading it.” Emma mumbled, her eyes averted from the datapad as if it were a close friend she were confiding in. With Rotom occupying it, it might as well be.

“Oh.”

“I don’t know what I’ll say to her.”

“Would you like me to author a script?”

Emma very nearly swore at her datapad, but instead pushed her tongue into her cheek and sighed through her nose in amusement. “No, I think I’ll be fine without one, thanks.” The conversation had helped to ease her mind, and she was about to go back to reading when she saw the time: the train was just about to arrive.

Emma stood again and once again her spine burned. She gritted her teeth, feeling the pain slowly wear off, moving her aching shoulders.

“How is it?” Rotom asked. Emma wasn’t aware that she had been making small groans of pain with each movement.

“I’ll live,” she muttered back as the train rolled into view and grinded down the platform with a hiss and the roar of heavy machinery. Emma considered that her body was probably making the organic equivalent of such sounds, overused and in need of maintenance. She boarded the train.

* * *

Kiloude was a secluded city in the south of Kalos. The train line was one of its most defining features, the rest of the town so plain and unexciting. It was a place of heaving muddy banks, cracked stone pathways and constant grey skies, a kind of thick mulchy wetness constantly hanging in the air. It made Emma's skin itch, and she was already uncomfortable enough - the train journey had been unusually rough and rugged, and it had set her back off hurting even worse than usual.

She passed by the sign emblazoned with the city's motto, 'A kind, sweet, and exquisite city.' She rolled her eyes as she read it, the sign weathered and stained by age and a lack of maintenance to where 'exquisite' was ironically almost scratched off. "Yeah," she muttered under her breath. "Exquisite my ass." She didn't believe the place had ever been exquisite. It was probably built this run-down and never touched again. A half-finished work called good enough and left to decay slowly.

Most of the town was uphill from the train station. She winced with every step, the vertebrae of her back grinding on each other painfully and sending stiff stabs of suffering through her nervous system, regular and burning throbs lashing up her spine. She was thankful nobody was out walking and wouldn't see her face constantly contort into flinches and cringing from the simple act of moving uphill. The pain sapped her energy constantly, and today it was doing a good job of making her feel breathless and broken. She made several stops to breathe just walking up the long road to the upper part of the city and was glad that Rotom was keeping quiet.

After a twenty minute journey that became thirty, she'd reached the uppermost segment of the city. It was immediately clear which house was the crime scene, and not just from the police tape around it. It would have been mostly unsuspecting, blending in with the houses tucked on either side, if the roof wasn't burned clean through, showing skeletal charred rafters and supports reduced to ash. It was blackened and seared, and Emma immediately recognized the fire was deliberate and controlled. It was far too clean a flame that had burned this place down. It hadn't spread outside of a certain radius that was likely meant to claim one victim and no more.

She was already unsettled. She approached the tape cautiously, already searching her pockets for her ID as an officer already at the scene approached her.

“Miss Matière?”

“That’s me.” Emma confirmed, giving him a quick glance at her documents before moving past all the police tape and onto the pathway to the front door. It was a humble cobblestone track, flanked on either side by grass that was grown much longer than the houses around it. The place had an unkempt feel to it, even more so than the rest of the city. The door was already ajar.

“Alright, careful as you go in,” the officer waved her on.

Emma took a cautious step into the lonely house. Her face was set as she looked around, seeing the scorch marks, the structural damage. She immediately stopped in the doorway, looking to the laminate floor of the central hall.

“You’ve had some time here before I arrived, did you discern a possible route the suspect took?” Emma asked the officer behind her.

“Entered directly, right through the front door, with little or no resistance. Was spotted by the victim in the hallway, most likely, at which point they had their Pokémon attack. The victim tried to run into the lounge to your left and was caught by the fire there probably, as they didn’t get far.”

“Mhm.” Emma took out her datapad and shined a light from it. While the day was now in full swing, the house was full of gloom, and the beam helped cut through the town’s thick atmosphere.

“We’re preparing a case file now for you, that should help.”

“When should I receive that?” Emma asked, shining the light into the ceiling at the back of the hall and illuminating a scorch mark.

“Tonight, we’re working on laboratory testing of trace evidence.” The officer was stood awkwardly behind her, craning his neck to see what she was looking at.

“What did they come up with?” Emma asked, taking a step deeper into the scene.

“We don’t know for sure yet. But the experts say that from the position of the body and the traces found, we’re more than likely looking at our victim’s DNA rather than our suspects.”

“You’re new to this,” Emma commented out loud. She could tell from the way he was speaking. Not recognising the officer was no clue - people came and went - but the longer you were in the business, the more succinct you’d usually become.

“Um, yes, I am.”

Emma took another step inside, sweeping the light slowly. “Rotom, see anything?”

“Rotom?” the officer asked.

“Sorry, its my partner Pokémon, I keep it in the datapad,” Emma explained, turning briefly and seeing the face of the officer was young, having not paid him any mind at first. “Rotom?”

“I am working on cross-referencing burn patterns across Pokémon species and seeing if I can detect a match. I should only be a moment longer.”

Emma waited in silence.

“I have a…” Rotom hesitated. Emma’s interest piqued and she opened her mouth to speak but Rotom continued before she could form a syllable. “An eighteen percent match?” It spoke with some trepidation, uncertain.

“Eighteen percent?” Emma questioned, knowing it was not nearly enough to form anything solid around. “Check again.”

“Yes, if you could give me a look at the one on the ceiling, please…”

Emma rotated on the spot, aiming the light and Rotom’s vision through the camera.

“No… that only complicates things.”

“How?”

“These don’t match the previous… Emma, I am completely stumped thus far.”

“Must be a new feeling for you,” Emma joked, but was uneasy herself.

“Everyone who’s already been here has been totally stumped, so far,” the officer offered unhelpfully.

“How many people do you have on this one?” Emma asked, having a funny feeling this may have been why she was called in to help so soon.

“Half the department.” Emma felt her forehead wrinkle in puzzlement. “We’re looking all around for anyone who’s helped us in the past on this.”

“I can tell.” Emma finally stepped through into the grim lounge, seeing a chunk of the room all charred and blackened. It seemed that if she touched anything it may disintegrate or rub off like charcoal. “Cleaning this up must have been a job…”

“May I scan any further burns? I may yet find something worth following up,” Rotom inquired.

“Sure,” Emma said, and swept the room over. Rotom said nothing, and Emma knew this meant it was still stuck for answers. “What’s the matches? What are we looking at… what was it, an eighteen percent match for?”

Rotom answered in a slow, frustrated voice by slowing down the text-to-speech. “Centiskorch and Quilava.”

“Not native to this region.” Emma said with equal frustration. She rubbed her chin slightly. “Right, lets get a close a look as we can here.”

The duo spent a while carefully scanning every inch of the scene, creating their own notes and working on their own reconstructions, asking questions to the officer who had greeted them periodically. Their work was meticulous and careful like any other in the field would be, but further aided by Rotom’s machine precision and Emma’s careful eye.

Emma filled her datapad with notes, photos, diagrams and quick and loose sketches, knowing she’d be receiving more accurate ones in the complete case file. Rotom made suggestions and added on references and research from the web while Emma focused on the scene itself. They settled into an easy, rehearsed back and forth of information.

This was where Emma was at her most comfortable, when she could knuckle down and really focus on a problem with Rotom’s help and presence to bounce ideas off. Her body relaxed, her mind taking her away and to a place of concentration she could rarely access elsewhere.

Eventually the time came to wrap up studying the scene. She had some vague theories, but none that she felt would lead anywhere. Emma left as the cold wind swirled back around the region and the winter evening approached, once again snapping against her coat. She said her farewells to the junior officer, whose name she had learned was Matt, and prepared to travel back to Lumiose city.

“Rotom?” Emma began.

“Yes, Emma?” Rotom sounded perked up, thinking that she may have worked something out.

“How’s the city been?”

“Ugh, let me see…” There was a short pause. “One traffic accident-“

“-damnit-“

“That you, no doubt, would not have been able to intervene in, that resulted in zero casualties. A building caught fire-“

“Do you think-“

“No, I do not think they are linked, Emma. This one was extinguished quickly and statements were given implying carelessness as the cause. No casualties.”

“Power grid?” Emma barked, barely letting Rotom finish.

“Normal,” Rotom sighed.

“Crime?”

“Nil.”

Emma made a fist and put her knuckles to her lips, breathing fog. “I want to look at the place that caught on fire.”

“Oh, do come off it, Emma. Besides, if you have too many distractions, you will forget about your occasion with madam Serena.”

Emma’s expression changed quickly, her eyes bulging slightly and her jaw slackening. “What time is that for?” She had forgotten all about it, so absorbed into her work. She was already extracting the datapad from her coat to check the entry she'd made on her calendar.

“Four hours from now.”

“Shit, it’s going to take me three to get back home!” Emma replaced the datapad, trusting Rotom.

“That leaves plenty of time to get to Prism Tower.” Rotom said, continually deadpan in its chiding of its partner.

“It’s at Prism Tower?!”

“Oh, Emma, what would you do without me?”

“I wouldn’t have a headache, for a start.”


	2. II - Pain

Emma had tried her best to look presentable. A quick shower had turned into forty minutes of fussing and attempting to get every hair on her head as glossy as Serena’s no doubt would be. In the process she had got shampoo into both eyes – they were both now sore and red, and Emma was less than happy with herself.

She had looked through her wardrobe for something fancy to wear and realized very quickly that she had about two outfits. In a fit of desperation, she considered going to the boutique on Vernal avenue, but knew she wouldn’t have the time. She opted to wear her coat again, sighing to herself as she gave in to the tried and tested.

“Miss Emma, I must say, I believe you’re doing more damage to your appearance by-“

With a strange series of painful sounding crackling noises Emma pulled a hairbrush back, gritting her teeth as she did so. “Rotom, if I-“ she stopped to pull it back again, “-wanted your input I’d ask for it.”

“My input is going to stop you from looking a mess.”

“Your input is going to-“ Emma made a noise of discomfort as she brushed again.

“To what?”

Emma didn’t reply, focusing on brushing. “I’m not taking you with me, that’s for sure.”

“I’ll pop in through the lights when the desserts are served, say a quick hello.” Rotom was very much enjoying Emma’s stress, zipping between every appliance in a circle.

“You’ll do no such thing,” Emma said, with a warning point. She gave up on brushing her hair as she saw it was indeed of no help, checking in a small pocket mirror. “Oh my Arceus, what the hell am I going to say to her? I look like I haven’t slept in days.”

“You do need more sleep,” Rotom pointed out unhelpfully.

“I am perfectly healthy.” Emma lied, pulling on one of her ‘fancier’ pairs of boots, brown leather that reached up to her shin with a slight heel to them. “Why do I own these?”

“For occasions like this I assume,” Rotom offered.

“I mean- nevermind.” Emma mumbled, mostly to herself. A car beeped its horn outside, and someone shouted something Emma couldn’t make out. She quickly crossed over to the window and peered out of it, craning her neck from side to side. This activity made an ache in her muscles flare back up and she gasped from the sudden discomfort.

“Emma, did you really have to check that?” Rotom asked, now with a little tremble. It had paused its constant zipping, and sounded almost worried for her.

“Just in case,” she said back, rubbing her neck as it burned. The night was young, but the sky was already as black as the void above. The lights of Lumiose hid the stars with their own twinkling, and the few clouds in the sky were nothing more than thin and light strips of grey cotton.

“Emma…”

“I know. I know.” She muttered the first two words, but the second two were loud enough for Rotom to hear. “I’m sorry.”

“Please, Emma.”

“I’ll try.” The promise sounded hollow, even to her. Emma ducked her head back into her home, turning to ‘face’ Rotom. “Right, I’d better set off. I’ll be back when I’m back, and don’t make a trip to Prism Tower, please? You’re not supposed to have Pokémon in the restaurant.”

Rotom gave a static sigh, and rolled the sound around the speaker to emulate rolling its eyes. “Fine. I think I’ll relax here.”

“Could you monitor the city fo-“ Emma cut herself off, remembering what she’d said moments earlier. “Enjoy your night in.”

“I am sure I will find something to do.” Rotom said dryly, thinking about how little it would have to do alone in the house. It secretly was strongly considering visiting Prism Tower, and simply hiding itself in a lightbulb.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine, Emma. Have a good night.”

Emma gave a little sheepish nod before stepping into the staircase hallway and shutting the door to her apartment. She took the stairs quick, in a kind of excitement she didn’t know she had. Quickly passing through the agency, she emerged back out into the streets, where the cold was once again enveloping the city.

* * *

“Hey, I uh- I have a reservation, I think?”

“You think?” He laughed. “What’s the name?”

“Emma Matière,” Emma said quickly, brushing hair out of her face, looking for Serena.

“I don’t have a reservation under Matière,” he said, reading off his list carefully.

“Oh, it’s probably Yvonne-“

“With the Champion?” He sounded incredulous, and his attention quickly left the reserve list. “This way, please.”

“Sure,” Emma mumbled. How long had Serena been here already? Her dread spiked up again as she was led through the posh interior of the restaurant. The ambience was very tidy and cozy, but that all did nothing to help Emma’s anxiety – until they turned a corner into a more secluded area, where Serena sat alone at a table by a window.

Emma’s heart fluttered, and she also felt sick.

Serena was the epitome of grace and composure. She had a small smile on her face even prior to Emma’s arrival, one that widened enough to show her clear pleasure at seeing her friend but not so far as to push the wrinkles that came with age. That easy, yet genuine smile comforted Emma enough to make her return one of her own through the nervousness. It had always been difficult for Emma to tell what color Serena’s eyes were. The safest bet was grey, but there always seemed to be a dash of blue or a glint of emerald in them.

“Hello, Emma.”

While it wasn’t an exclamation, it held more warmth than a crackling fireplace. Emma could feel it wash over her as she took her seat opposite Serena, a lone candle and menus separating them. The waiter said something that Emma didn’t pick up on, but Serena nodded politely, and that bid him goodbye for the time being.

“It’s good to see you again,” Emma said, feeling the words expelled from a place close to her heart, the syllables spilling in a need to be heard. Serena’s gentle smile stayed affixed to her face, but the comfort radiating from her only seemed to increase upon hearing Emma’s words.

“How have you been?” Serena asked simply, and Emma suddenly felt greatly uncomfortable again. She broke eye contact with Serena to look down at the table, finding it difficult to formulate an answer.

“My… my body, or…” Emma trailed off. “I don’t know.”

“So, hasn’t got any better since we last talked?” Serena asked delicately. She wasn’t accusing Emma of not taking action about the pains that her past had caused her, rather gently probing on the pain itself.

“No.” Emma said shortly, meeting her eyes and darting away again almost immediately. “Uh – how long have you been here?”

“Not long, don’t worry over that,” Serena laughed, and even the laugh was comfortable and warm. “Have you seen the menu?”

“Oh, no.” Emma picked the menu card on her side off the table and began to read it, scanning the dishes. She had never eaten in the Prism Tower restaurant before despite spending her whole life in the city. Everything seemed very rich and fanciful. She wondered what Rotom would think of her eating other Pokémon for a moment, but the common argument of ‘no Pokémon ever seems to care’ quickly took away her worries: though not without a twinge of guilt remaining.

“How’s Rotom?” Serena asked.

“It wanted to come visit. It’s doing well, we keep each other good company.”

“And I assume it is helping with your aches and pains too?”

“More than I can thank it for, really…” Emma pondered, half to herself. “Is there anything you recommend here?”

“I do like the Farfetch’d they do here, it’s honey-roasted and done so beautifully.” Serena’s recommendation sold Emma immediately. “Or the Barraskewda.” Emma became conflicted again, not sure which she would prefer.

“Which do you think is better?” Emma asked, and Serena laughed quietly again.

“Decide for yourself, I couldn’t possibly say.”

Despite the restaurant being a perfectly reasonable temperature, Emma felt both too hot and too cold – hot like she was about to sweat, and cold like she was shivering. She tried to change the subject. “How have you been? I don’t usually watch battles on the TV…”

She wasn’t lying. She made the occasional attempt to catch Serena’s televised battles to retain the position of Champion, but all too often she found herself busy or distracted. Pokémon battling had never been something for her. When she did, it usually went over her head – she didn’t really understand the intricate strategies of Pokémon battling.

“The battles have all been well, otherwise I wouldn’t still be Champion.” Serena latticed her fingers. “Me… I’ve missed you. I don’t talk to many people outside of my bubble anymore. The Elite Four, the Champions… sometimes I get tired of it all.” The candle between them flickered. “I do not value you enough. You’ve always been…”

“Dependable?” Emma said, not sure that she was. This was their first meeting in months.

“No… You’ve always been present, and yet I do not often ask for your help, nor do I offer you mine.” She spoke carefully, each word picked out like Serena’s Pokémon were before the battle: each to serve a purpose, to cover a weakness, to communicate her point clear as day.

“Well, that goes for us both, Serena,” Emma pointed out. “And it’s not like you’d have much use for me anymore, is it?”

Serena’s calm expression was disturbed, and that alone was enough to make Emma regret saying it. The smile faded, replaced by a look that was imploring something of Emma. Serena’s eyes became laser focused onto Emma’s own. “Don’t say such things. Your spirit and what you chose to do is just as valuable as the acts themselves.”

Emma shifted uncomfortably. “I can’t do those things anymore though, can I? I have lost… some usefulness…”

“You’ve been thinking about this for a while.”

“I have.” Emma confirmed, knowing she wouldn't escape the topic now.

“Do you wish you still could do it?”

“If I could, I would do it until I died.” Emma was not nervous anymore, and her face was set in a solid stare to match Serena’s. While Emma’s expression was utterly unreadable, Serena’s was distraught. Before anything more could be said, the waiter returned.

“So, what can I get for you?”

Serena’s smile quickly returned, so easy and relaxed that Emma was startled by the replacement of the mask. “I’ll have the honey-roast Farfetch’d, please.”

“Got it.”

Emma was not so quick to recompose herself, and found herself looking back over the menu in a panic. “Um…” She decided to follow Serena’s recommendation, ignoring all the other items. “I’ll have the Farfetch’d too, thanks,” she said and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. What did Serena think of her appearance? Her eyes darted back to the Champion, but Serena’s was watching the waiter.

“Mhm, any drinks?”

“Emma, would you be interested to have some Alpha Sapphire?”

“Oh, sure thing,” Emma said, before hearing the question.

“We’ll take a bottle of that then as well, please.”

“Alright, we’ll have that out for you shortly then!” No sooner than he had rounded the corner did Serena resume their earlier conversation, making Emma uncomfortable once more.

“Your life’s value is greater than Essentia.” It was like she was pleading, and that irked Emma.

“But Essentia’s value was the most I could get out of my life. The most anyone in my place could have got. I don’t regret doing it.” Emma said calmly. “Even with the toll it took on me,” she added.

“And that is why I still value your counsel, Emma. Even if you are no longer Essentia, you are the person who chose to be her.” Emma felt small, outwitted. It was difficult for her to articulate her meaning, especially against Serena’s vocabulary and manner.

“Right,” was her simple response, and she tried to make it sound offhand without being too dismissive. She had probably failed. Emma’s eyes drifted away, to the nearest window looking out over the city, and the lights winked at her. She returned her attention to Serena, who seemed to be staring her down now. “What?”

“Nothing…”

“Gotta be something,” Emma replied, again feeling defensive.

“Do you have many regrets aside from that?”

“Serena… I didn’t come for an interrogation…” Emma said. This mood was far from what she had both expected and wanted from their meeting.

“I apologise. I did not intend to- “

“Don’t worry about it.”

The tension between them grew thick. It was briefly cut by the waiter reappearing with the bottle of Alpha Sapphire, but once the beverage was poured, the awkwardness settled back over them.

Emma looked at the bottle, and thought out loud. “When I die, do you think it’ll go back to how it was?”

“What?!”

Emma had clearly caught Serena off guard. She looked aghast. Emma remained detached. “When I die, do you think they’ll eventually figure out Essentia’s gone?”

“They as in?” Serena asked her.

“Criminals. Corrupt Teams.”

“I couldn’t say.”

“Hmm.” Emma’s attention returned to the window. The city glittered.

“Emma… you need more help. This is weighing on you.”

“Yeah,” Emma said hoarsely, feeling tears sting her eyes out of nowhere, betraying her façade of calm. “It has been. Who else am I supposed to say anything to? Who else can I admit that… I feel like I wasted so much of my life to? But still feel like I’m wasting it now?”

“I’m no therapist, Emma,” Serena mumbled, and Emma realised that she had truly thrown her friend off-balance. Emma was too deep into her ruminations to pull back now though.

“I… I want to do it all again.”

Serena said nothing. Despite the chatter of the restaurant, cold quiet smothered them both. Emma took a sip of the Sapphire. Her attention kept being drawn to that damn window, away from her friend who had come all this way to see her. Her face twitched, stress building. She wanted to let it all out but managed to stuff it back – the acid feeling of being so close to crying was slowly fading.

Emma exhaled. “Sorry.”

Serena had extended her hand over the table, her delicate fingers hovering over the white tablecloth. Emma couldn’t take it. She just couldn’t. “Emma,” Serena chided. “Emma. Please.” Emma’s hand moved, but it was to take another sip of her drink. Serena slowly retracted her offer of support, and Emma felt empty to see it go.

“I just can’t. I can’t take advantage of you and your position like that.”

“Is this about pride or something?” Serena didn’t sound angry, but she did sound on edge, like she was ready to be. It may have been the candle’s flicker, but Serena’s eyes twinkled with a light that made Emma feel all the more uneasy. “I want to help. Let me help you.”

“I don’t need it. Not yet. I can still live.”

Serena wanted to comment, she did, Emma knew it. Emma could almost see the struggles of the Trainer Serena had been against the Champion she was now. The Serena of thirty years ago would have made a biting remark and forced her to accept her hand, but all the time Serena had known Emma had worn down her constant offers of help and refuge.

“Go to a damn doctor.” Serena said it seriously, very seriously, and Emma still laughed. The flicker of light had moved to Serena’s mouth, and the shadows indicated an almost imperceptible smile. Emma’s smile was far more pronounced, and it almost hurt her face to make the expression with such genuine amusement.

“I can’t even do that for you, they’ll put two and two together.”

“You are such a-“

What Emma was would have to wait, as Serena was interrupted by a silhouette falling over the table. Neither woman was quite prepared for what they saw: instead of food, it was the figure of the Lumiose City Gym Leader, Clemont, and his ever-evolving backpack of mechanical limbs.

“Clemont!” Serena greeted, and again Emma was caught off guard by just how much her tone changed. “How have you been?”

“Very, very well, and yourself, Serena?” Clemont replied easily, with a wide smile, his eyes nearly hidden by the thickness of his glasses. The twin mechanical arms behind him extended wide open in greeting, the light of one of the restaurant’s fireplaces gleaming off the metal appendages. Both ended in a clawlike protrusion, but with rounded edges to avoid looking threatening or causing accidental damage.

“Good, thank you. I see you still haven’t abandoned your old inventions.”

“Of course not, there’s always some room for improvement, right?” Clemont folded both his biological and mechanical arms, the machines below the flesh and blood.

“Showoff,” Emma muttered, but it was with a reluctant smirk.

“And how’s Rotom?” Clemont asked Emma. She didn’t know if she should be insulted or relieved that he hadn’t asked her how she was.

“It’s fine.”

“Chatty as ever. How does it cope with you?”

Emma rolled her eyes visibly. “I don’t know how I cope living within 3 blocks of you.” After snarking back, she took another sip of her drink while Serena’s laugh made her heart flutter again.

“Says someone who never stops by to visit, this must be the first time I’ve seen you since you retired!”

“There’s been nothing to report,” Emma said simply, acutely aware that anyone in the restaurant could be craning to hear them now that Clemont had joined them – being alone in the corner with Serena had given her the intimacy they had needed to talk about Emma’s secret identity.

“You’re going to want to check up on that suit, make sure it still works. Where do you keep it? The floorboards under your bed?”

“Of course not,” Emma scowled. “And…” She looked around them, with a pointed glance at Clemont to remind them where they were, “keep your voice down, damn it.” She neglected to mention that was indeed where she kept her suit.

“Ah, yes,” Clemont said, dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. _“Well, it was good to see you both, but I won’t arrest your attention any longer. I’m sure Emma has so much to say!”_

That one, surprisingly, did sting.

* * *

Serena was right, the Farfetch’d was delicious. Emma had enjoyed every mouthful of the meal, and they had finally managed to return to small talk with Clemont’s timely intervention. Emma finally relaxed, and it seemed Serena did too, breaking out of her posh and careful mannerisms.

“You know, next time I come by, I should invite myself to your place and make you cook for me,” Serena suggested cheekily. While Emma did not much like the idea, the mood of the conversation made her want to agree.

“I hope you like pasta, it’s all I know how to make.”

“Pasta is versatile,” Serena shrugged. “Besides, I’m sure that I’d do a worse job than anything you could do. I get waited on all the time now, I probably couldn’t cook a ready meal!” She gestured with her hands as she spoke, something that looked completely alien to Emma after seeing her so composed and restrained.

“How about,” Emma said, waving her fork upon which she had speared the last bite of Farfetch’d, “we just get some takeout?”

“How about that,” Serena replied, with an air of wonder. “I haven’t eaten anything like that in a long time. That would make a treat.”

“Alright then, next time,” Emma laughed. “Don’t let me get away without organizing it, I think I’d look forward to that.”

“I’m glad,” Serena said. “Sometimes I just think you don’t like me.”

“I don’t like anyone,” Emma joked, and they both laughed, but Emma worried that Serena may be serious. “But, ah… I mean, I’m just a-“

“A stubborn cow?”

Emma gasped, shooting back in her chair in an approximation of insult. Her mane of chestnut hair, finally tired of behaving, fell into her face. Serena was giggling, her hand covering her mouth, her eyes averted. “You’ve wanted to say that to me for a very long time, haven’t you?” Emma sighed.

“You know it,” Serena said with a point and a wink, and this was so unlike the Champion and so much like the Trainer Emma had met years ago that Emma wanted to make sure she was still in the correct timeline. Then Serena’s face settled again, and Emma noticed the wrinkles and lines once more.

“You know…” Emma said, hoping that she wasn’t speaking too soon, “You could stay a while…”

“I’d love to.” Serena said simply, and Emma’s heart dropped, realising how unprepared she was for a guest. “But… my life is just too busy now. And these Trainers – if I slipped even for a second I could lose my position.”

“I understand,” Emma said, both relieved and disappointed. “But maybe… a time in the future…”

“When I can, I’ll let you know.”

Emma nodded slowly, taking it in, and brushing her hair back out of her face, resetting to seriousness. “It’s been good. Tonight, I mean. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” Serena replied.

A chill of loneliness travelled up Emma’s spine, as certain as cold itself. They would have to part and she would have to go back to depressing, lonely investigations. Even with Rotom there, it wouldn’t be the same as having Serena’s comfort too.

“Well, I suppose I should pay-“ Serena began, but was cut off by Emma.

“I can’t let you pay for-“

“Actually, you can.” Serena’s authority cut through Emma as cleanly as her Aegislash would have. Emma relented. “Thank you for making that so easy,” she added wryly, giving a waiter a gesture that only Serena could have made – not a wave, not a beckon, nothing disrespectful or crude, but absolutely a command. Once the bill was paid, Emma and Serena stood together. Wordlessly they moved into a hug, Emma sighing out her stresses as her hands clasped over her best friend’s back. Serena mirrored her, and Emma could feel that they were both just clinging on to each other to avoid the harsh reality that they would have to move apart and return to their duties.

Emma breathed in Serena’s perfume deeply, trying to commit the moment to memory. She leaned her head down into Serena’s shoulder, feeling the well of emotion rise again. “I-“ she choked, and felt Serena’s arms tighten over her.

“I’m here for you too.”

And it hurt.

* * *

“So, how was your night?”

“It was fine,” Emma replied simply, her head full of all kinds of mixed and matched thoughts.

“Just fine? Well, the case file came through, there’s some interesting things that you’ll want to go through-” Rotom began, jumping out of the television and into the fridge, predicting that Emma would go straight to it. “The most exciting part is that-“ Emma swept past the fridge, she sat at the kitchen counter as she had in the morning, and this time buried her head in her hands. “Oh… That bad?”

“It wasn’t- bad,” Emma managed, pressing her palms into her eyes and making them hurt, trying to suppress any outburst that might be oncoming. She hated appearing anything other than totally composed in front of Rotom, fearing it would gain more ammunition in their constant squabbles over her condition. “It went really well. I miss-“

The first sob came, and the rest burst forth to follow it through the breach in Emma’s emotional dam. She wailed, but still with a restraint, a cap on her volume, trying to stay on top of the pain that was quickly settling back into her bones now that she was not in the comforting presence of a friend. The arch of her back lit up in agony to compliment the emotional stress, and it was all too much.

“Emma…”

She couldn’t reply. It took some time for her to recover.

* * *

It was late. The noise of the city had died again. The bureau was locked up, and Emma was in bed.

“Rotom?”

“Yes, Emma?” Its voice was more delicate than usual. She greatly appreciated the effort Rotom was making for her.

“Can you run a diagnostic on the suit?” Emma asked, already hearing Rotom’s protests, its complaints that she wasn’t letting it go, its reservations and opinions… but they didn’t come.

“Certainly, Emma.”

Emma rolled over onto her back. “Clemont suggested it, just to make sure it was working.”

“I thought the request was unusual." A spark of static burst from the speaker like a chuckle. "It’s just like you.”

“What is?” Emma mumbled, her voice laced with a glum depression as she pulled her sheets closer to her.

“You want me to monitor the city all the time, but you never check on the suit.” Rotom replied, keeping its voice measured and gentle.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma asked, but Rotom had already zipped under her bed and into the Expansion Suit, where it wouldn’t be able to reply. She shut her eyes and listened out for Rotom’s inevitable report that the suit would still be there for when she needed it. It felt like it was taking a while. She opened one eye and watched the seconds pass on her clock.

A minute.

Two.

“You okay down there, Rotom?”

A flash of light searing her vision indicated Rotom had just zapped back into the wiring. It took a moment before it began to speak again. “I didn’t tell you what was in that case file earlier, did I?”

“No, I was too busy having a mental breakdown,” Emma said, sitting up. “Why?”

“Well, thing is… our victim may have been a member of Team Flare, back in the day.” Rotom said.

Emma’s expression didn’t change from nonchalance, but her temperature rose, and her hands instinctively closed into fists. “So? And what about the suit?”

“That’s the… um, that’s the thing, Emma…”

“Out with it.”

“According to your suit’s GPS… it was at the scene of the crime.”


	3. III - Word on the Street

Emma blinked in the blackness of her room.

“What?”

Rotom spluttered briefly, and Emma had shot out of bed with a speed neither of them expected to turn the light back on. Before she could touch the switch, Rotom had hit it for her. Without commenting, she turned to kneel beside her bed, carefully extracting the suit from the space she’d opened up below it.

“Emma, you should be-“

“No,” Emma snapped, “You said it was at the scene of the crime. I wasn’t wearing it, I know that. We have to figure this out.” She smoothed out the suit flat on the floor, the armoured parts slightly battered, the undersuit sleek and shiny still. She found herself staring at it, at the tiny hexagonal patterns in the fibres of the suit. “This… Where’s the toolbox?”

“Down there with the suit, Emma. You don’t have to do this tonight-“

“You know I do.” Emma had reached back under for her toolbox – a plastic container full of screwdrivers, spare wires, parts that were compatible with the suit that she and Clemont had been able to source. She turned back to the suit and a ripple of pain like a whip cracking launched up her ribs. Try as she may, she couldn’t mask the noise of discomfort from Rotom.

“Emma, please, let it wait. Rest. Please.”

Emma inhaled and exhaled slowly, looking at the wall where the voice was coming from. “This is- Rotom, you know what this represents, right? I know you joined up a bit late into my career, but you’ve been around long enough to know what this thing means to me.”

“Of course I do. But Emma, the suit is – its right here.”

“And what if I sleep and it isn’t?”

“Emma, you’re paranoid-“

“Of course I am,” she snapped. “Do you have any idea what could happen if this ends up in the wrong hands?”

“I do,” Rotom said, with a clear effort to sound soothing. The voice modulator made it seem more condescending. “How about this, Emma. I can monitor the suit for the night, wake you up if it wants to stretch its legs without you, and in the morning you can put it back on and we go about our business. At the end of the day, we’ll see if its just the GPS being shot, or if there’s a real problem.”

Emma stared at the wall. “What if I can’t sleep thinking about it?” She moved her knees close to her chest, hugging her whole body close to herself. “Rotom, you have to understand how-“

“I do. But we’re both here, aren’t we?”

“Yeah,” Emma admitted, trying to swallow a lump in her throat and failing twice. “Rotom, I-“ Emma stopped herself, automatically putting one hand on the chest armour of the suit. The metal alloy felt so familiar. She breathed carefully, eyes closed. The engine of a car revved up somewhere in the city, and Emma could feel the power of the suit in her fingertips, the roar of the engine like a call to action from her past – but one best left ignored for the time being. “Okay.”

She lifted one of the suit’s empty sleeves and rubbed the material between her thumb and index finger, watching it as she moved it gently. It felt heavier than she remembered it, but still as soft and rubbery, oddly comforting. “Is it still working besides that?”

“Yes. Camouflage is working, disguise is working, Poké Ball jack is working, the muscle fibres and armour are working fine. The suit’s still just as good as when you left it.”

“That worries me now.”

“Hmm,” Rotom’s noise was again meant to comfort her, but she could tell that it was only making such a noise because it didn’t know what else to say. “Emma, get yourself back into bed. I’ll watch over the suit.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, letting it slip through her fingers, briefly holding the glove as though it were a hand before it too fell to the floor. “Damn it.”

Her face was hidden in shadow as she stared down at the suit beside her, Rotom only able to see some of its Trainer’s features – her messy hair shielded what little it could see, but it could tell she was trembling. Her lower lip was shivering, and while it couldn’t detect her temperature it could almost feel the heat of her panic. Rotom didn’t push further, letting her sit there for a while, watching her breathe, wondering what she was thinking. The shaking wasn’t stopping. After a few minutes, Emma looked back at the wall. She wore an expression that was far removed from her usual stoic, stubborn glare. Rotom’s voice modulator spluttered uneasily. “Maybe you should tell Serena or Clemont about this.”

“No. No, Serena’s halfway back to the League by now and Clemont’s asleep, we can’t tell them now.”

“Will you tell them tomorrow?”

“If we can’t figure it out ourselves.”

“Good enough for me,” Rotom said, having expected her to outright refuse.

“Alright,” Emma sighed, and stood up, groaning as her bones popped and clicked back into place after being hunched over. “Nn-“ She couldn’t bite back the worst of the pains. “Watch the suit for me,” she said and moved to get back into bed as the lights went out, Rotom getting them for her. There was a creak of a floorboard, then a crash as Emma kicked her makeshift toolbox and sent her tools and parts careening and skidding over the laminate flooring. “Motherfucking piece of fuck-“

The lights flickered back on. “Hey hey hey, calm down calm down don’t worry about it-“ Rotom said, speaking so fast its voice hit a higher pitch than usual and the modulator whined.

“Fucking son of a fucking-“

“Emma, get in bed don’t worry about it don’t worry about it don’t worry about it-“

Emma made a noise of strained rage and kicked the toolbox again, sending the remaining parts flying around the room, the plastic box smacking the wall and bouncing off, pieces everywhere. Rotom fell deathly silent. “I’ll pick that up tomorrow,” she muttered. She groaned with discomfort as she lay back down in bed, and Rotom could see how uncomfortable she was written on her face. It chose not to comment on that.

“Good idea.” Rotom said, relieved that she wasn't pushing it. “Goodnight, Emma.”

“Night, Rotom.”

* * *

Again, the sun rose on Lumiose City. This time though, as the sun slipped through the cracks in the shutters of Emma’s apartment and her clock began to blare, she was already awake. Her bleary eyes stared nonplussed at the time, 6:00, same as the day before. She had slept, but she had slept a fitful and uneasy sleep. 

“Rotom, get the clock,” she groaned.

“Get the clock, please?”

“Oh my Arceus, just- Rotom, get the clock, please?”

The beeping stopped, and instead of saying 6:00 the clock now read as a pair of digital red eyes, two ones side by side that occasionally flickered when Rotom ‘blinked’. It zapped between the clock and the wall to talk.

“You gonna stay in bed?”

“Maybe.” Emma said. She rolled over onto her side and her shoulder instantly felt like it was giving under her weight, so she propped herself up against the sudden pain.

“So you don’t want me to get the lights?”

Emma remembered the suit.

“Lights, now!” She was terrified Rotom had lost the suit in the night and was trying to break it to her slowly. She pulled herself to the edge of the bed and stared down at the floor as the lights clicked on.

It was there where she had left it, lying empty and forlorn.

Emma clutched at her chest, feeling her heart hammer. “Nothing happened in the night?”

“No, it was all totally fine.”

She fell back onto her pillow. “Thank Arceus.” Taking a few breaths, she kept one eye on the empty suit, the other closed as she smooshed half her face into the pillow. “I’m going back to sleep…”

“You don’t want to put the suit on now?”

Emma’s single visible eye opened a touch wider. “Well,” she began, her voice muffled, “I do want to put it on again… I do, a lot…” She glanced back down at it. “I do want to,” she agreed again. “But I need more sleep if I’m gonna-“

* * *

“Still fits fine.” Emma smiled, looking down at herself. She’d left the parts and tools on the floor, ignoring them in her excitement to wear the Expansion Suit again. The suit, when in its default state, had a very plain grey colouration, but when it caught the light a shimmer of vague orange could be seen. It was skintight, but most of the undersuit had various straps and panels of armour that kept her from looking undignified. Emma flexed an arm and a band of orange gleamed, making her smirk to herself as the ripple moved up her wrist and into the glove. Her fingertips tickled with power, and she made a fist, punching out with it.

The suit amplified the motion, and the air crackled. Her fist had crossed the distance in a blur, and another ripple of orange power flowed down the arm of her suit in response to the movement. She raised a leg and kicked downward, careful not to touch the floor with her boot and smash it to splinters. Again the air split before her boot, making a whooshing sound as her leg lunged out. Emma laughed, looking at Rotom with a wry smile.

“You’re gonna have to stop me running up the side of Prism Tower at this rate.”

“I can tell, I haven’t seen you this happy since you had that outstanding Johto takeaway.” Emma laughed again at that memory and thought maybe that could be the one she’d share with Serena one day. “Are you going to invite me aboard?”

“Yeah, power it up.”

“Remember, we are just taking it out to track its movements today, right? Nothing crazy?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, just come on, test it out,” Emma beckoned Rotom and it launched into the fingertip of her suit. Together they could bring out the full power of the suit, with Rotom monitoring the minute details and Emma focusing fully on operating. “All power to left arm.” The suit didn’t have a speaker, so Rotom couldn’t reply, but the fibres in the suit closed tighter over her arm as requested, forming artificial muscle.

Emma stepped forward.

 _‘She better not actually hit anything,’_ Rotom thought.

**BANG.**

A solid chunk of Emma’s bedroom door came flying off, launching into the living room and exploding into splinters. The gap it left shone a spotlight onto the adjacent wall. The beam of light caught the dust of the destruction settling. The hole left over was almost four times the size of the fist that punched it, with strands of ruined, pathetic wood still trying to connect the gap.

Rotom zapped back out of the suit. “Emma-“

“Arceus, that felt good.” Emma was standing straighter and somehow looked younger. She laughed yet again. “Damn.”

“You’re going to have to spend money on getting that fixed now, you know.”

“Whatever,” Emma shrugged, still smiling. She dropped her arms back to her sides and shut her eyes in bliss. “Oh, I’m going to be sad to take this off…”

“Well, you’re going to have to. We have to remove the gloves, boots and armour so you can wear it under your outfit today.” Rotom reminded her. “Scrape your toolbox up and get to it,” it commanded with an amused ripple in its voice. Emma rolled her eyes but took the suggestion. She sat cross-legged and started picking up the pieces that she’d left scattered the last night.

“Can you make me a coffee?”

“I can brew it, is there a cup under the machine?” Rotom asked.

“No idea,” Emma replied, picking up a tiny screwdriver and searching for the box to place it in. Rotom zapped away and back in under a second.

“Just checked, there isn’t.”

“Ugh,” Emma groaned and put a hand on the ground to push herself up. A crack issued from below her fingers. “Oh, shit-“ She quickly withdrew the pressure, to see a small fissure in the floor. “Oops.”

“Maybe take the suit off before you break anything else,” Rotom suggested.

“Maybe,” Emma agreed. “Or get used to it again so I don’t hurt anybody while I’m out.”

“Good point,” Rotom conceded. “You should ask Clemont for one of those mechanical arms so that I can help out more.” It was pinging between devices rapidly, looking for something to do with itself.

“Nah, I would just let you do everything for me then.” Emma found the box and dropped the screwdriver into it, followed by a couple of other parts. “I’ve forgotten what most of these are for,” she admitted as she eyed a blue circuit board marked CD02. “Do we still have the manual?”

“Pretty sure I still have it on the datapad,” Rotom assured her.

“Go check, I’m gonna make a drink.” Emma tossed another part into the box, using the motion of her open palm instead of her fingers or wrist, afraid the multiplied force would shatter it if she wasn’t careful. 

“Sure thing.” Rotom zapped away and Emma stood up again, now more careful in how she did so. "Yep, still here."

“This suit feels great, Rotom,” Emma called after it, and Rotom couldn’t help but be a little worried. “Oh, damn, I really did punch right through it, huh?” Emma carefully opened the door to the combined kitchen and living room, the glove squeezing tight over the door handle. “Oh well. I can fix that up.”

It was still the early hours. The sun’s dim light wasn’t enough to fully illuminate the room, but it created small squares of light on the floor and walls as it fought through the cold mist of the city and into her windows. Emma carried herself differently in the suit: moving a lot more naturally, massaging her joints less.

She reached for a familiar mug and placed it under the coffee machine, which clicked on without command.

“City report?”

“Traffic normal, power grid normal, no crime to report.”

“Temperature?”

“Still a little below average. I don’t see how your suit can improve that though,” Rotom said, and they both laughed at the remark. “You really seem… different, with it on.”

“Yeah,” Emma agreed. “I feel better. It’s like a new body.” She ran her hands over her biceps and squeezed, feeling the muscle wiring pinching together, tightening until it was like steel. “Starting to wonder why I retired.”

“You know why,” Rotom said as the coffee began to pour. “And I suggest that you don’t punch any more holes in the walls or floor or doors to avoid things getting any worse.”

Emma just nodded, choosing not to comment.

“Can I help with breakfast?”

“No, I’ll get something in the market today.” Emma swept the finished coffee off the stand and took a quick sip. “Mmm… Thanks, Rotom.”

“Very different,” Rotom said.

* * *

“Yeah, I’ll have a... hmm... let me get something with a lot of lettuce and a lot of bacon.” The streets of Lumiose always hustled and bustled with dense activity in these earlier hours, before noon while the small stalls and markets were still out. Especially on weekends, every corner of the city would be transformed into a place with fascinating, delicious smells and delightful colours.

Emma had a few favourites. She greatly enjoyed this particular sandwich shop, whose produce was always some of the absolute best and whose bread was full of crunch and warmth. She could barely keep her mouth shut at the sizzling of bacon in a pan, one of the two chefs running the stall cooking it off and letting the scent waft through the air.

Emma had dismantled some of the suit, but left the core undersuit totally intact, still wearing it under the coat and trousers she’d worn the previous day. It kept her from being distracted by her weary muscles and bones, and let her focus on the wonderful business of Lumiose City. She felt inspired, like she had all the time in the world to do whatever she wanted. But the day still had objectives. She would go to some familiar faces and ask around for any rumour of Team Flare, and see if she could make any connection to the crime scene. Then, later on, she could check up on the suit and make sure the GPS was functioning as normal, or if there was something else entirely to worry about.

“There you go, madam,” the stall owner said, beaming as he handed over Emma’s freshly wrapped sandwich in exchange for a couple of Pokédollars. “Enjoy!”

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” Emma smiled back, with a nod of thanks before departing down the street. She took a bite before she’d gone five steps, and her smile only grew as she took the time to taste the meal. “Mmph...”

Rotom couldn’t resist commenting but it was completely unintelligible. While hovering beside her in its standard Pokémon form it couldn’t speak Kalosian.

“Shut it, you,” Emma said, but kept her big grin. “If you could taste this too, you’d know why.”

Rotom replied, and Emma shook her head to herself. “I’m sorry that seeing me so happy is cause for worry, but if you stopped bothering me over it I might do it more often,” she said, guessing at what it had responded with. She reddened in the face when she considered that it may have suggested nothing of the sort and said something completely different. Distracting herself from that thought by taking another bite, she returned to the bliss of crunchy vegetables and bacon with just the right amount of greasiness. “Hey, go in the datapad and make a note, alright? Write down, ‘date with Serena, take her to market stall, good sandwich.’ Please?”

Rotom laughed at that, but zipped into one of her coat pockets to make the note. Now that they had progressed down the street, new products were on shop fronts and the distinctive and divisive smell of fresh fish filled the air. Emma loved seafood and found the impulse to buy something to use for her evening meal growing. Her datapad buzzed in her pocket and she clutched her sandwich tight in one hand while extracting it with the other.

“We have food at home,” Rotom said smoothly as she looked down at the screen, then laughed to itself. “You still need to do the Basculin from the last time we came down this way, it’ll be out of date soon.”

“You know me so damn well.”

“Even with that suit, you can still be very predictable.” Rotom winked from the screen and Emma replaced it in her pocket as Rotom beamed back out. It zipped between her shoulders, hovering close as many Pokémon did to their Trainers while out and about in the city.

That was another thing about the city: the Pokémon. Large and small, flying and grounded, cute and terrifying, but all living in a close harmony. To her left, a Smeargle and its Trainer painted portraits in a small corner stall. To her right, a Gigalith was passing up the street, holding up a big crowd behind its slow, plodding tread. Even at the stall that she had got her sandwich from, a Cyndaquil provided the heat for the pan, curled up and snacking below the hob. Emma could pay a lot more attention to it all now that she didn’t have to worry about her body. The suit was tightly wound like a coiled spring holding her together. It was liberating. She thought back to what she’d said in the morning while looking up at Prism Tower. Could she still make that sprint to the top? She tightened her muscles and felt the suit lock tight.

_'Bet I could.'_

The day had other demands though. She was on her way through the city to meet up with some of the street gangs, which she had maintained her connections to even after leaving the urchin life behind. She knew where to search. Hotspots were the Lumiose station, some of the restaurants, and Centrico plaza. After she’d spoken to whoever she’d find around there, she’d check in at the Lumiose Press.

Time to do some digging.

* * *

“Emma!” The speaker was a scrawny, rough looking woman, wearing the typical Lumiose punk uniform - black leather, ripped pants, and sporting bright hair - hers was dyed an electric yellow. Emma had never worn those kinds of colors in her time on the streets, but they never intimidated her like they did some people. She knew the punks were for the most part harmless: the only harm they would ever do would be in retaliation to insult or to mischaracterisation, and even then they would rarely go so far as direct violence.

“Helene,” Emma greeted back. She’d known Helene since the Essentia days, and had always had time for gossip with her in particular, as she seemed to have an outstanding memory for events and conversations. “How’s the city?”

“It’s been treating us a bit harsh lately,” she replied with a bit of a shrug. “Cold front coming in and all.” Emma wasn’t sure if the recent drop in temperature could be attributed to a ‘cold front’ but didn’t question the usage of the term. “Been tricky for the homeless, but we take as many as we can in.”

“You do a lot of good for this city,” Emma approved, with a smile.

“Hey, and so do you, miss Emma. Is that what this is about today, come to pick my brains again?”

“Yeah, detective work.”

“Ooh, I love it when you say that, gives me chills.” They were speaking outside Cyclone café. It seemed that punks were particularly attracted to that one simply for the aggressive name, and in recent years the café owners had embraced it, making it tailored to their tastes and pulling in their business. It was pretty smart of them, as not many other businesses in the city recognized the gangs as much more than a nuisance. They also served as free marketing.

“So you’ll cooperate?” Emma said in a serious, deep voice, and Rotom laughed beside her. Helene joined in with Rotom.

“So long as it ain’t me you’re tryin’ to haul off for questionin’, yeah.”

“Well, this is a form of questioning, but you’re not a suspect, if that’s what you mean.”

“Yeah, yeah, I getcha, miss Emma. Do you wanna sit indoors? Place does a great bit a cake, if you’re lookin’ to snack.”

“No, I’ve already eaten, but we can head in if you want.”

“It’s alright miss, just lookin’ out for ya. Actually, you’re lookin’ pretty good today. How’s your bones?”

“Yeah, it’s weird. Feels a lot better than usual today,” Emma said with a shrug. The suit moved with her, still concealed under her outfit. “But anyway, if I could-“

“Wow, goin’ straight to the questions without askin’ to sit, must be feeling good today, huh?” Helene and Rotom laughed together again, and Emma allowed a kind of weary smile.

“It’s all rumours right now, but I wanted to ask if there’s been any word of Team Flare around.” Helene’s eyes widened at the question.

“Flare? Them nasty types that tried to nuke us all thirty years ago?” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I didn’t realise that they was still kickin’,” she admitted. “It was before my time, I’m sure you know.”

“Well, they’re not still kicking. They might be. We’re not sure right now, so I’m asking around.”

“Right. Well... I ain’t seen anyone wearing Team Flare’s colours in a long time, if them colours were white and orange. That was it right? I remember seein’ it on the history channel.”

Emma felt a little twitch in her fingers. Some people didn’t remember Team Flare. The threat they had posed had affected her life in such a drastic way. But life had gone on, and time had begun to forget. It was what Flare deserved.

“Yeah, those were the old Flare colours.” Emma showed Helene a picture on her datapad, of the old Flare logo - an F stylised to look like a billowing flame. “And this was the logo.”

“Yeah, I recognise that, some of the little ‘uns sometimes tried to graffiti it to be all edgy like. We clobbered ‘em for that. Or, we did when we found out what it was.”

“Good,” Emma said without thinking. “I mean, that symbol and what it stood for...”

“Yeah, bad stuff,” Helene agreed. “Horrible. Let me think here... I don’t recall much word of these guys outside of people saying how much they was scum.” She rubbed her chin again. Emma let her think for a moment, but had a familiar sinking feeling that came with this kind of questioning, the feeling that this would lead nowhere.

“Hmm... White and orange... No, I ain’t seen anyone wearing that kinda stuff. Especially not the way they wore it, in them pictures, they’d stick out, I’d remember.”

“And you haven’t heard any talk of Team Flare?”

“Nah. Last we heard of anything Team Flare related was probably the last time Essentia had to do anything. I hope she’s doin’ well today, it’s all she deserves.”

Emma glanced glumly at her blank datapad notes, then replied, “Hear, hear.”

* * *

The Lumiose Press was not often the very best place to ask about this kind of thing. While it was a center of news, it was also home to gossip and conjecture and opinion, and making sure the facts were straight could be a challenge at times. Regardless it was always a good place to check in. Emma pushed the door open and made her way in, the bell chiming as she did so. The most immediate change was the street chatter being muffled by more urgent chatter and phones ringing. The place was loosely organised into a mess of desks and cubicles, between which young, wide eyed reporters could be seen scurrying wildly with unkempt hair, likely on their third energy drink of the day. The building had the most horrific stench of cigarette smoke and the kind of smell that came with thick, sweaty humidity.

Emma strolled up to one of the cubicles. The door was already open but Emma knocked anyway for politeness. "Hey, Louis. Mind if I take a look through the database? You seem... busy." The editor did indeed seem busy, smashing keys on his now ageing keyboard with a speed that reminded Emma of the exaggerated movements the Expansion Suit could help her make. A lit cigarette rested between his lips, his tired eyes reflecting the glare of the white screen, contrasting with deep shadows under his eyes.

"Yeah, busy. Yeah. Yeah, go ahead," he approved, his eyes briefly darting up to see her. "Hey, Emma."

"What on earth has you so..."

"Champion Serena."

Emma's heart dropped through the floor, through the concrete and into the core of the planet in a millisecond. "W-what about her?!" She moved in to the cubicle and Louis leaned back in shock at the speed of her movement. Emma scanned the screen that Louis was typing at for any information before he spoke.

"She was just in this city last night, went to Prism Tower, it's nothing serious, Emma-"

Emma stepped back again, hand on her heart. "Damn gossip..." she muttered, then while her frustration was still hot, added "Don't you people ever report any news?"

"Hey, hey, hey, hey, this is what the people eat up, don't ask me why. There's TV dedicated to stalking gym leaders, for Arceus sake, Emma." Louis's eyes were wide as he hurriedly explained to her. "Don't shoot the messenger," he added.

"I don't think that applies here," Emma grumbled. "While I have your attention though, I'm gonna be looking for anything about Team Flare, do you have any events or time periods that might be good to narrow the search?" She put her hands out in front of her, numbering the suggestions off on her fingers with a feeling that the editor was only half - listening again.

"Um, huh?"

"Team Flare?"

"What? Who- oh, that lot. That was ages ago, wasn't it?" He finally stopped typing, and exhaled a puff of smoke. "Why?" Emma finally felt she had his full and undivided attention. She pressed it.

"Might be stirring, or something to do with them." Emma shrugged, but knew that would be enough of a hook to keep him interested. His eyes got even wider. "Do you know about any dates, any time periods where any mention of them cropped back up?" This time he heard her properly, and went back to typing. He brushed his messy black hair away from his dry forehead.

"Let me search for you... Team Flare... You wanna sit down?"

"There's no chair."

"Oh yeah. Remodeling," he offered as an apology, breathing out another cloud of smoke.

"Adding vents for all the smoke, I hope? Disgusting habit." She moved back to where she had stood beside the desk to look at his screen as he searched.

"Hey, I'm taking ten minutes to help you, least you could do is not do that." He sounded genuinely hurt.

"Sorry," Emma said bashfully. She hated the stink of the building. It was hard not to comment.

"Flare. Flare..." He hit a key and four articles appeared from the last twenty years. Again, the sinking feeling in her stomach. "Flare. Take a look, I'm gonna run to the bathroom," he said quickly, stubbing his cigarette in a cheap ashtray.

Emma nodded thanks as he scampered past her. She moved to occupy his empty seat, feeling the cheap leather groan under her weight, and took a look at the articles on the screen. Twenty years ago, Team Flare items sold at auction. She clicked that link, the sinking feeling disappearing.

She flitted around the article, glancing at the attached images. Team uniforms, strange visors, memorabilia. She made a note of each item and took a picture of each on the datapad as she scrolled. Most of the items had gone to Lumiose Museum. A few more had been scattered between various bidders. She made a note of the names and the date.

"Emma, you seem to forget that I'm here." The voice startled her.

"Oh, yeah. Can you pull all the-"

"Well, plug me in then," Rotom said. Emma fumbled in her pockets for a cord that she could connect her datapad to the computer with.

"And how long were you planning on letting me do all that manually?" Emma complained.

"I don't know, you seemed so into it I did not want to interrupt." Rotom pinged into the computer, then back. "That machine is exceptionally old, I doubt your wire is going to sync us up. Why are you making that face?"

"Stinks in here," Emma informed Rotom as the latter pinged back and forth between the devices, and she finally found the short black cord that would hopefully still work. She slotted it into the datapad, then looked under the desk to see a massive bundle of wild cables and cords. "Whole place is a damn fire hazard," she added. "Where the hell is-" She finally found the main PC block, an old, hideous thing, and tried to put in the cable. After three tries she turned it in her fingers then took two more stabs. "There." A little fizz of electricity spat as Rotom copied all the relevant data onto the datapad. "Careful, don't want to burn the place down."

"I am taking all the precautions I can, trust me," Rotom said. "This is the most uncomfortable-"

"Good, you know how I feel."

"Can't be this bad."

"Oh, I think it could."

At that moment, Louis came staggering back in. "Find what you needed?" He looked at the cord connecting to the PC. "Hey, I don't know if data privacy-"

"It's all public domain, here's just the best place to get it," Emma assured him. "Rotom's just speeding it up."

"Yep, and I'm just about done. Thank you very much." Emma quickly unplugged Rotom, feeling that the metal contact on the cord was warm to the touch. "Also, please, sort out your wires down there, I almost got lost on the way back to Emma's datapad." Emma nodded her agreement.

"Oh, yeah, will do. If you're done I need my desk back."

Emma got up out of the seat and moved aside, letting the young editor sit back down. "Thanks for letting us take a look."

"No problem, Emma. Actually, can I ask you something?"

Emma was taken aback. She paused in the doorway, desperately wanting to get back to fresh air and freedom. "Uh, sure."

"Where'd you get a Rotom? Could use one around here." He was already back to typing.

"Recommended from Clemont, you can find them all over the place in old tech nobody uses. Just- be careful if you do go Rotom hunting."

"Not all of my species is so placid as me. Some of us possess lawnmowers," Rotom said cheerfully. "They take things very seriously."

"Right... in that case, I might see a breeder..."

"Much better idea than going searching," Rotom said sagely. "Any Rotom you bring here is going to absolutely hate it until you sort things out, though."

"Got it," Louis said, not listening.

Emma and Rotom sighed together as they took their leave. 

* * *

"Have you filtered through what we've got?" Emma said as she took the steps up to her apartment over the detective agency.

"Indeed I have." Rotom confirmed, but without much gusto. Emma could guess what that meant. "None of the incriminating items auctioned were the same or similar to those found at the scene of the crime."

"I need to look through that damn case file," Emma sighed. "Can you bring it up for me?"

"Sure, I got it loaded up." Rotom sounded dejected.

"We'll figure this out. I have another idea," Emma reassured it. "Give me some time to leaf through this file and we'll be heading back out." She clicked open the door to her apartment, turning the key. As the door opened it brushed aside splinters of wood. "Oh, shit," Emma laughed, seeing the hole she had punched through her door in the morning. "Forgot I did that."

Rotom audibly sighed. "Of course." It pinged into the Holo-Caster. "Coffee?"

"Yeah, go."

"Please?"

"Please, my dearest Rotom," Emma begun sarcastically as she took off her coat and hung it up. "Be a sweet wonderful partner Pokémon, and hop into the coffee machine," she continued as she took off her boots, then her trousers until she was just wearing the undersuit. "And please fix me up a cup of coffee." She moved into the kitchen and put her mug back under the machine. Her grouchy demeanor broke and she laughed. "Thanks," she added as the machine clicked on.

"...No problem, Emma," Rotom said. She was glad to hear the playful amusement back in its voice. "What was your idea? Where did you want to head?"

"Well, I said I wanted to check out the building that caught fire yesterday."

"Oh, come on," Rotom said, its attitude now inverted. "You cannot be serious, there is no point in investigating that."

"I know, just a hunch, but I want to do things today," Emma extended the word 'do' plaintively, like a child whining. She gesticulated in frustration with her arms, the suit flexing and contorting around her but not amplifying her movements, recognizing them as gestures not needing any further strength. 

Rotom sighed. "Sure."

"I do have something more interesting to do after though. I'm going to give Clemont a call and see about us going to Lysandre Labs."

"Ooh, now that is something," Rotom said, and the lights flickered in agreement as some of its excitement spilled over.

"Yep, that's the plan. I'm gonna put the GPS back together, and we'll check it before we head back out. Also, if you could read out the case file to me while I'm working you can get me all caught up on what I'm looking for and any clues we might have missed." Emma felt very organised and the feeling was only strengthened by Rotom's silence, then an impressed buzz of static.

"Great idea." It pinged rapidly between coffee machine, wall and datapad. "You have it together today, it's barely gone noon and we've done so much!"

"Funny how I can do things when I'm not hurting constantly."

"Mm... just try not to get used to it."

"Yeah, I know." The coffee poured, and Emma took it through into her room, opening the shutters and letting the sunlight stream in, careful to hide herself from street level viewing. The suit may have been less recognizable with the armor stripped down but it wasn't worth risking anyone getting a glance at her. She sat down on her bed and keyed a hidden sensor over her chest that loosened the undersuit. "Aagh-"

The moment the comfort of the suit loosened, the tightness of her flesh and blood returned to bind her. She impulsively lay back on her duvet from the agony spreading back into her body. Her left arm exploded in spitting and vicious pain, and she clutched at it, unsure of why it in particular hurt so much. She looked up at the hole in the door and remembered. The punch had been blazing fast, so fast she may well have torn her muscles from sudden extension. The suit would have comfortably held that damage in place, and now it was hitting with full force.

"Emma? Are you-"

Emma swore repeatedly, struggling to keep back tears as she rubbed her wrist. "I think I tore my wrist with that punch this morning," she moaned, her face screwed up in pain, breathing steeply. "Fucking hell, why did you let me-"

"You moved before I could stop you!" Rotom raised its voice in indignation that Emma was blaming it, and Emma put out her right hand to placate it momentarily before returning it to her left wrist.

"Sorry. Sorry. Just- hard to think straight when-"

"Yes, yes, don't worry, I forgive you." Rotom was always so understanding. "Can I help at all?"

"No, it... its alright." Emma managed to get over the shot of pain. "I'll get an ice pack, you start reading the case file."

"Careful with the ice around your suit," Rotom reminded her.

"Oh, yeah..." Emma said, pausing from where she was preparing to stand. "Damn it, I'll cope." She started to gingerly pull off her undersuit with both hands, gradually pulling away the grey material from her body.

"You're very resilient. It's admirable."

Emma gave the wall a faint smile. "Serena put it differently." She managed to slip the undersuit all the way off, and pulled on her dressing gown over her underwear instead.

"Can't imagine that's much of a replacement for the suit," Rotom joked, and Emma only raised an eyebrow. "Right, lets see here. Case file, case file." Emma laid out the pieces of the GPS on the floor of her room and got to snapping it back together, feeling the pain settle back into her body. She winced. Feeling complete again couldn't have lasted forever, but she certainly wanted it to.


End file.
